


worst behavior.

by moonkid28



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gen, Not Shippy, Recreational Drug Use, polygot!nursey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 15:07:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20837534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonkid28/pseuds/moonkid28
Summary: Nursey isn't feeling well. Jack would help, but, well... he's not great at it.Nonetheless, he tries.





	worst behavior.

“Nursey.”**  
**

He doesn’t answer him, typing away at his keyboard in a way that’s visibly agitated, or at least irritable. What are normally soft, smooth clicks against the mac’s surface are now harsh, broken-sounding; each near-slam of his slim fingers makes a sharp clack in the quiet of the haus’ living room.

“Nursey,” Jack says again.

The continued silence makes it clear that he’s being ignored. Inwardly, he sighs.

“Twenty-eight, your captain is talking to you. Answer, now.”

At this, the typing stops. Nurse looks up at him, slowly, and his face is so uncomfortably nondescript and blank that Jack cringes a little inside of himself.

“Yo, Captain. Didn’t see you there,” Nursey drawls. Jack makes the executive decision not to call him out on his blatant lie and gets to his knees so that he doesn’t loom over Nursey where he’s scrunched up in the corner.

“You’ve been tense lately. There’s something wrong with you. What is it?” _Shit,_ that was probably the wrong way to go about it, but it’s already been said. Something flickers across Nurse’s face too fast for him to identify, and even if it had been obvious, he’s not sure if he’d be able to properly identify what it was then either.

“There’s plenty of shit wrong with me. There’s plenty of shit wrong with you, too. We’re both older than the people in our respective grades for a reason, Capitane.”

“You know that’s not what I mean. You’ve been snapping at people, aggressive on the ice like you usually aren’t, fighting with Dex more often. You nearly dropped your gloves last game.”

“It’s an aggressive sport. I’m still playing good hockey, aren’t I?” Nursey asks, his tone deceptively lazy.

Jack makes a quietly frustrated noise. “You’re playing damn good hockey. You know that. You’re a great player and a hard worker. You’re serious in practice. But you aren’t okay. You–”

“Why do you care?”

Jack stops. “What?”

Nursey raises a brow. It’s a little condescending. “I said, why. do. you. _care_.”

“I’m your captain, of course I care, Nursey,” Jack says. “It’s my job to care about your wellbeing.”

“On the ice,” Nursey shoots back. “Dunno about you, but i’m not seeing any ice. I think it’s hardwood, actually.”

“Nursey, you’re being purposefully obtuse and I know you’re smart as hell. I’m worried about you. You don’t have to…” Still frustrated, he switches to French to calm himself down.

<< “You can tell me what’s wrong. I won’t tell anybody, but I have a right to know what’s affecting my players because it can affect the team in the long run. You’re maintaining because you’re a good player but that won’t last forever. I pay attention. I know you’re upset about something. Just spit it out.” >>

<< “All you pay attention to is hockey and your major. Your whole schedule is ‘eat sleep hockey class hockey, Bitty, Shitty, Lardo repeat’. You’re all in on that shit. That’s fine, but I don’t fall under that list. My problems aren’t yours until they affect you on the ice, and from what you’ve said, they haven’t.” >>

<< “It’s being preemptive,” >> Jack protests. << “I care about the whole team. I want to know.” >>

<< “Every reporter in America wanted to know about you, didn’t they? And they still don’t know the truth. It wasn’t their business, and it was a matter of privacy. I don’t ask you. Don’t ask me,” >> Nursey says, and the note of bitterness along with the icy coolness in his tone is enough to make Jack back off a little, because… well, Nursey’s sort of right. It’s his privacy.

“Euh… I, uh. Yeah. Yeah,” Jack manages to get out. “I'm… damn. Désolé, Nursey.”

Some of the tension fades from Nursey’s shoulders and what he thinks is surprise lights in his sleepy green eyes, but it disappears quickly.

“C'est bien. I’ve got to finish this paper before midnight, though, so, like…”

“Yeah, sure. Uh. Good… luck. I hope you do well.”

“Thanks.”

_X_

For the next week, Jack tries to be a little nicer to Nursey– to all of the frogs, actually, because Nursey had a point: he didn’t really get close to many people and when he did, he stuck with them and didn’t oftentimes branch out. Chowder is of course delighted, but he’s fairly excited by most things; Dex is a little more hesitant, but Jack remembers details about people, and he asks for a basic tutorial on how to fix small things around the house for his new apartment wherever he goes and the freshman warms right up to him, even if he talks a little fast and seems a little redder than usual. He takes time out for Ransom and Holster, too, who seem surprised but pleased, and willing to be around him; he finds he likes it even outside of their haus movie nights.

_X_

Jack doesn’t exactly seek out Nursey, but he does know now because of Dex that he tends to seek out Lardo when he’s thinking about anything. He’d asked the younger defenseman, which he had gone a little odd about.

“Why?” he asked suspiciously, gripping his stick. “Is he in trouble?”

“No,” Jack tried to say, but Dex barreled on.

“Who did he yell at? Was it Chowder? Was it you? He’s weird but he probably didn’t mean it, Jack, I swear, and he’s been weirder than normal it’s probably some dumb art thing-”

“Dex,” Jack said firmly. “Nursey’s not in trouble and he didn’t yell at anyone. I’m just trying to figure out where he hangs out so that if I ever need him, I know where to find him. He’s the only person I don’t know where he goes.”

Dex blinked. “Oh.”

“And you shouldn’t say that,” Jack added. “Art’s important. Most of the stuff we know about history is because of art.”

“I. Uh. Yeah? Sorry. Sorry, Jack,” he stammered out, flushing badly. “He hangs out with Lardo and Shitty.”

“Thanks. And thanks for showing up to optional skate. Go warm up.”

“Yes sir.”

_X_

The next time Shitty’s room smells prominently of weed– enough that the rest of the haus gets a bit of a contact high– Jack slips inside and sure enough, Nursey is there, laid out on his back with a joint between his lips, his eyes closed.

“Yo, Zimmermann,” Lardo says lazily. Shitty vaguely waves an arm: he’s face down on his bed, his laptop open on what looks like a college application, probably Harvard again. A choking noise comes from over Nursey’s direction, but Jack ignores it and settles next to Lardo, who promptly eases into his lap like a cat. He tucks his chin over her head and she makes a happy noise that rumbles against his chest.

“You smoke?” Nursey asks, wary.

Jack shrugs. “Sometimes. Not always. Not often. It helps, y’know? With the anxiety. Stress.”

“Jack usually just sits in here,” Lardo supplies. “It’s better than his meds sometimes. Right Jack?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, and squeezes her lightly around the waist.

“I know,” Nursey says under his breath–he already talks at a low pitched little thing, almost a mutter– and it’s just quiet enough that he almost misses it.

Huh.

Jack does end up taking a couple hits, just enough to give him a buzz, then spends the rest of the time playing with Lardo’s hair and eventually, Shitty’s. He’s good at braids. The wariness doesn’t fade from Nursey’s eyes, not quite or at least not all the way, but the tension does.

_X_

“Hey, Bit- uh, Bitty?” Jack asks from the doorway. It’s warm in the kitchen, and something pop-y and light is playing, which makes sense, because Bittle’s arms are covered from fingertip to elbow in flour. He gets distracted for a second, staring at the contrast between his now ghost-white forearms and sun-kissed upper arms and shoulders, until Bitty says, “Oh, Jack! I’m sorry, you haven’t been standing there long, have you? C’mon in here, Lord, you ain’t gotta stand there, it’s your house too.”

“Right, yeah.” Jack steps in, and Bittle looks up at him expectantly for a minute until he remembers that he’s here for something, and not just to hover around while he makes food.

“Uh, do you know Nursey’s favourite pie?” He asks.

One little blond brow quirks up at him. “Yes, Jack, I know all of your favourites. It’s sweet potato. How come?”

“No reason,” he says evasively. It doesn’t work. Bitty’s mouth turns up at the corner a little, and he leans his hip against the counter, dusting his hands off.

“So you just… happen to be asking what Nursey’s favourite pie is, randomly? No reason behind it at all, hm? Why not Ransom’s? Or mine?”

“Yours is peach-lemon,” Jack says immediately. He isn’t sure why he knows that, but then Bitty’s cheeks go a little pink, and something sort of twinges in him and goes That’s why. Because Bitty likes when we remember stuff about him. He ignores it– aggressively– and instead pounces on the fact that Bitty is now in a good mood if he wasn’t already.

“Do you think you could maybe make a sweet potato pie? Just, uh don’t let the boys get at it, eh? It’s a surprise, kind of? A pick me up?” He’s rambling, a little, but it’s not like he talks a hell of a lot anyways.

Bitty’s brow creases a little, which means he probably said something wrong, but he can’t take it back now.

“Jack, is Nursey alright?” He moves to grab something, a pie tin, and starts shaping the dough within it. “Now that I think about it, he’s seemed a little off, but I thought he was just tired because of class, I should’ve said somethin’, i’ve been so distracted by this dang blog that I haven’t even tried! I wish someone had said–”

“Bitty,” he says firmly, a little loud. The smaller man looks up, startled.

“Was I rambling again? My bad. I’m just–”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize, I do it too. Can you make the pie?”

“Of course, Jack. When do you need it by?”

“Tonight would be. That would would be good, if you can. Or tomorrow night, either way, it doesn’t really matter–”

“I’ll make it tonight,” Bitty says cheerily. “Don’t you worry your head, i’ll just make a murder run and i’ll use this crust here, buy some more stuff for another since we’re dang near outta flour anyways.”

“I can, uh, come with you, and help you carry your stuff back from the store? Or just so you don’t have to walk alone…?”

He looks surprised at the offer, and maybe a little touched. “Oh, Jack– I mean, if you’re busy, you don’t hafta, but i’d sure appreciate it if you’re sure you want to.”

“I’m sure. I’ll grab my phone. You should grab a jacket.”

“Chirp, chirp, chirp, Mr. Zimmermann. I’ll get you back one a’ these days, mark my words.”

_X_

It’s a little late by Jack’s standards when they finally finish up the pie; somewhere in the middle, Bitty had gotten the idea for a marshmallow top crust and had absolutely needed to work it out on paper for later, on a pie that didn’t have so much weighing on it. Still, it comes out well, and Bitty bags him up, sends him off with the pie, a container of cool whip, and a thermos of milk, “In case you decide not to drink those beers with my pie,” he says, gesturing to the two bottles with their slim necks tangled between his fingers.

Jack thanks him and Bitty sends him off with a smile. He stands in the doorway, waving, and it makes him warm and a little less anxious about what he’s about to do to know that he has the support of the younger man. _Got your back,_ he thinks, and knows they all mean it.

_X_

Jack knocks softly at Nursey’s door, as gently as he can with the two bottles clutched in his hand. There’s a loud scuffling noise, some brief swearing, and what sounds like chips being crushed, and then Nursey opens the door.

He looks… kind of a mess. Not that Jack judges anyone who looks a mess, because he’s very, very familiar with that look, but he looks bad, like he’s genuinely not feeling well.

“Jack?” Nursey croaks, then looks startled at the sound of his own voice. He clears his throat quietly, then speaks up again. “Uh- what are you doing here?”

“I brought a pie,” he says, awkwardly holding it aloft. Nursey looks at him, the pie, the beers, and then back at him, then silently backs away from the door to allow him inside the dorm.

Jack ducks his head, pleased, and eases inside, beelining for the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Nursey trailing slowly behind him; he can’t see the expression on his face, but somehow he doubts it would tell him much.

“I’ve got milk, too,” Jack offers when he sits down. “Bitty packed it in… euh, a thermos.”

“Beer’s fine,” Nursey murmurs. He hesitates, hovering by the table for a second before going over to the cabinet and grabbing something. Until he turns around, Jack doesn’t see it, but when the freshman settles in a chair he sets the item (items?) on the table: two little forks and a bottle opener. “Oh, thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Jack unwraps the foil from the crust and peels the cling wrap off, then slides it Nursey’s way while he cracks open the beers. He remains mostly socially polite and doesn’t eat before him, though he pulls off a bit of crust and nibbles at it until Jack offers him his beer. The freshman raises it in mock salute before pressing his lips to the rim and drinking deeply from it.

Jack digs his fork in quietly, which gives Nursey the go ahead to hesitantly slide in his fork with his own.

They’re like that for a while, just the sound of quiet eating and their bottles settling on the table every so often. Jack watches Nursey as he works his way through the pie; only the glow of the light above the stove illuminates the little kitchen.

Maybe half of the pie is gone when Nursey speaks up.

“So we gonna do this after pie or during? Because it’s kinda late and I’ve got an eight am tomorrow.”

“Sorry,” Jack says. “Or– well, yeah, sorry for that, but, euh… I wanted to say sorry.”

Nursey blinks at him.

“For prying,” Jack says. Awkwardness creeps into his tone at the blank silence he receives. “Uh, earlier, in the week? You…”

“No, I know what you’re talking about,” Nursey interrupts. “Just. That was kind of… unexpected.”

He is instantly so, so fucking relieved.

“I mean it. You were right, I don’t– i’m not entitled to knowing. That’s not my business. And I don’t pay attention to everyone. I’ve been trying to get better at that, which is kind of why I was doing the prying. You didn’t see me last year, but I wasn’t who I am now, and even who I am now isn’t really great. I’m a lot better,” he says earnestly, waving his fork a bit as he spoke. “So i’m sorry. That was hypocritical of me, eh? To ask for all that when I don’t tell anybody? And it was rude.”

Nursey blinks again. “Uh.”

“Sorry. That was a lot.”

“No…? I… that’s. That’s not what I, uh, was expecting,” he manages to say a few tries in. He leans back, and Jack can see from the dip that forms in his cheek that he’s biting the inside of it as he taps against the table with his fork.

Jack wanted to ask– was he forgiven? Was all alright? Were they good? It was making him anxious, honestly, that he didn’t know how Nursey was feeling– but he wouldn’t go back on his word and therefore stayed silent until Nurse cleared his throat quietly.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “I’m not super into sharing feelings and whatevs, y’know? Like that’s not what i’m about really. But thanks. For taking what I said into consideration.”

Jack nodded, relieved. “No problem, Nurse.”

Nursey shot him a weak smile. He fiddled with his fork, slim fingers rolling the utensil in his grip. “You mind if I put this away? M’not really that hungry anymore and, uh, early class.”

“Oh, of course, sorry,” he says. “Uh, here, take the foil. It’ll do you more good than me, probably, eh?”

Nursey chuckles softly and takes the foil. His hands fold lightly around the edges, molding it around until it’s covered neatly. “I’ll walk you out,” he says softly. “You’ve got everything?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll grab my ID.”

_X_

“Thanks for the pie,” Nursey says at the door to his building. “Means a lot.”

Jack knows intrinsically that Nursey isn’t talking about the pie. It warms him a little.

“Thank Bitty, he did all the work. I just bought supplies.”_ It’s nothing, i’m happy to do it._

“Still. You didn’t have to. Personal pie and all that.” _I still appreciate it. _

“No problem.” _You deserve it._

They stand by the door a little awkwardly until Jack claps his hand on the other man’s shoulder gently. He makes his voice low. “Jusqu'ici tout va bien, eh?”

Nursey nods. “Ouais, ça va. Juste fatigué est tout. Promettre. Problèmes personnels.”

Jack meets his eyes and keeps them for a second. It wasn’t quite a lie, or enough of one that he needed to be called on it, so he nods and squeezes his shoulder. “À plus tard, ouais? Stop by the haus sometime this week. Bitty misses you, there’s too many calories and not enough mouths in the haus to feed.”

That gets another weak laugh out of him. “Sure. I’ll see what I can do. À bientôt, Capitaine."

Jack gives him a mock salute, which Nursey returns with a tiny, tiny smile, and then slips out into the night to make his way back to the haus.

_Everything isn’t fixed,_ he thinks to himself, _but maybe Nursey is a little less miserable._

_X_

They don’t talk about it, but Jack finds Nursey nearer to him in the next few weeks, and he welcomes it. He had been neglecting even his close friends, he realizes. Nursey eases up when Jack finds his way into Shitty’s room, doesn’t go so tense when he lightly places a hand at his arm. He allows himself to be corralled out of arguments with Dex. When Jack says something to him, he no longer quietly and subtly shuts down– which was what had been going on, Jack realizes now; he didn’t seem to take well to being called out in a group individually unless others were– it still seems to sting a little, but it doesn’t look as if he’s visibly taking offense or harm from it.

Jack opens up in return: he gives him space, respect, recognizes his work ethic on and off the ice. Jack finds himself saving food for him (he doesn’t eat much. Why doesn’t he eat much? He’s two inches taller than Jack,) and a month later finds himself at a poetry reading. He sees Dex out of the corner of his eye and nods to him; he flushes and nods back. Jack only stays for Nursey’s reading, third, and catches his eye and smiles lightly before he heads out.

“Thanks,” Nursey says softly the next day, pleased and flushed.

“It’s no problem–” is all Jack manages to get out before a voice calls, “Nursey, c’mon, we’re gonna be late to meet Chowder and Farmer!”

Jack raises a brow at him and Nursey flushes a little more. “Dex, uh, came. To the poetry reading,” he says, as if that explains anything at all, but it does.

“Just as long as you’re being safe–”

“Oh my god, it’s not– we’re talking. That’s it.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Nursey rolls his eyes. “Bye, Jack.”

“Later, Nursey.”

_X_

“Yo, what the fuck is–”

“Shhh.”

Shitty rounds the corner; when he’s in full view, Jack is there, pressing a finger to his lips and frowning.

“Why am I being shushed, brah_ooh_ is that motherfucking Nurse? Why in the hell is he–”

“Shh,” Jack says again. His frown grows deeper, but he turns back to his book and gently eases his fingers back into Nursey’s silky curls.

“He’s letting you do that, right? You didn’t, like, hit him over the head with a hockey stick, right?”

“I wouldn’t do that to a stick,” Jack says, still frowning. “Or Nursey, for that matter.”

Shitty snorts and flops onto one of the other couches. “Loving where your priorities lie, brother. Still, can’t believe Nursey’s laid out on you like that. Took him a pretty long time to open up to me, if we’re being honest.”

Jack looks down at their position on the couch, or rather, Nursey’s: Jack himself is sitting upright, a book in his hand, mug of tea on the table next to the couch, while Nursey is just as Shitty said, laid out, his head resting face-down on his thighs.

(“Move your book,” Nursey had said.

“What?” Jack asked, alarmed, as Nursey tossed his backpack into the floor.

“Move it. Tea too. Arms up.”

Jack had obeyed, bewildered; Nursey kicked off a shoe lazily and had begun to shuck off his jacket.

“Oh my god, please don’t get fucking naked–”

“I’m not getting naked, _crisse_. Shits and I went to the same school,” he plopped on the couch and then squirmed onto his lap. “That’s where the similarities fucking end.”

It took him a few minutes to get truly comfortable, but he mumbled into his leg, “You can put your arms down,” so Jack wasn’t really concerned with him moving after that.

Maybe a minute or two later, Nursey had grabbed his hand and put it in his hair. Jack froze for a second, but then he heard, or rather felt, a little grunt against his leg and he began to tentatively run his fingers through the shorter of his curls.)

“He’s tired,” Jack explains. “He said, uh. Two tests and an essay and then some presentation? And then he’s doing something for Lardo later so… napping. I respect it.”

“You would,” Shitty said, rolling his eyes fondly. “You want something from the kitchen?”

“Protein shake? And maybe a brownie.”

“Got it, brahski–”

“Bring another one for Nursey, too.”

“Gotcha.”

Shitty retreats to the kitchen, humming; Jack returns to his book until a clumsy hand comes up and pats at his face.

“Mmm… ‘anks, Jack,” Nursey mumbles sleepily. Jack smiles and squeezes the hand, gently pulling it from his face.

“Got your back, Nurse,” he murmurs, rubbing a hand along his spine. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Jack is a good captain who loves his teammates and that's that on that.
> 
> don't knock my French I grew up in a French-speaking household but never learned to spell or use grammar, also I don't care 
> 
> Désolé - Sorry
> 
> C'est bien. - It's good/fine
> 
> “Jusqu'ici tout va bien, eh?” - "Everything is alright, yeah?"
> 
> “Ouais, ça va. Juste fatigué est tout. Promettre. Problèmes personnels.” - "Yeah. I'm just tired is all. Promise. Personal problems."
> 
> “À plus tard, ouais?" - "See you later, yeah?"
> 
> "À bientôt, Capitaine." - "See you soon, captain."
> 
> And if you don't already, follow me on [tumblr](https://hoenursey.tumblr.com)!


End file.
